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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850601">An Exchanging of Poems</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish'>what_a_dork_fish</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bad Poetry, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Jaskier ain't slick, Love Poems, M/M, Nonverbal Communication, SHUT UP I KNOW I'M TRASH, Secret Relationship, Yenn is a bit mean in this one</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:00:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier was sure, he was <em>sure</em> no one saw him put the poem under Geralt's door...</p>
<p>Geralt is pretty sure someone is messing with him. But he'll give it a shot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>403</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Jaskier</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This started as "High school AU, poems in lockers" and turned into "University AU, poems under the door in the dorms" SOLELY for Ciri</p>
<p>Also y'all are free to yell at me for being a shit poet</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier was quite pleased with this poem, and very nervous.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>No gold polished by time or water or human hand</em>
  <br/>
  <em>could ever gleam as bright</em>
  <br/>
  <em>as your eyes in the sun.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Every scar crossing your face,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>a trail for my fingertips,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>a map for my kisses,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>stories I long for you to tell me,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>someday, someday, one day.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Every movement you make,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>a tale carved by muscle,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>an excitement like song,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>stories I long to touch,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>someday, someday, one day.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Every word from your lips,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>a drop of purity in a bucket of sin,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>a voice like shivering rock,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>stories I long to hear,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>someday, someday, one day.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>No gold polished by time or water or human hand</em>
  <br/>
  <em>could ever be as precious</em>
  <br/>
  <em>as time with you.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He drew a little dandelion at the bottom of the page, reread it, and made a face. Those last stanzas were hardly his best. But he had to hurry, because it was 8PM and Geralt would be coming back from his evening run soon. As quietly as possible, Jaskier slipped out of his dorm and hurried down the hall. Making sure no one was around, he bent and slid the folded poem under Geralt's door. Hopefully he'd see it. Hopefully he wouldn't step on it and ruin it. Hopefully, he wouldn't take it the wrong way.</p>
<p>Jaskier hurried back to his room, stomach tight with dread. Hope, hope, hope, and he'd never been so scared of it.</p>
<p>He barely slept that night.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Geralt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt was very surprised by the folded piece of paper on the floor when he came back from his run. Frowning, thinking it might be another of Yennefer’s exes trying to insult him, he picked it up and opened it.</p><p>He knew who it was before he finished reading the poem and saw the little drawing at the bottom.</p><p>No, it couldn’t be. Jaskier didn’t like him like that. They were just very good friends. Yes they had started talking about the philosophy of romance lately, the contradictions, the good and bad (Geralt was bitter after Yennefer, Jaskier was still falling in love left and right), the labels society chose… but that didn’t mean anything. That just meant they were on a new topic. Last week it had been the ecological impacts of cats, and what should be done about them. That didn’t mean Jaskier wanted to “do something” about Geralt’s cat Roach, a former stray who now lazed her days away in sunlit windows and Ciri’s tiny lap.</p><p>This was probably just a joke. Someone trying to make him think Jaskier wanted something other than friendship. Well, it wouldn’t work. Geralt knew Jaskier would never love him, so fuck this.</p><p>He went to his room and set the poem on his desk for later examination.</p><p>~</p><p>It was four in the morning. Jaskier wouldn’t be up for two hours. Geralt decided to take a chance.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>Roses are red</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Violets aren’t blue</em>
  <br/>
  <em>but your eyes are.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I’m bad at this.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>He drew a clumsy little wolf head at the bottom—Jaskier had often teased him by calling him a wolf, because he was big and strong and dangerous but if you knew just where to scratch he could be “tamed”—and crept down the hall to slide it under Jaskier’s door.</p><p>Then he hurried back to grab his shower-things and go hide in the bathroom until he was under control.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>comments pls, I crave</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Jaskier</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This poem.... Is Bad. But still.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier stared, bewildered, at the poem in his hands. It could hardly be called that, of course, but… but…</p>
<p>Geralt had often said he was a bad artist. But that wolf at the bottom of the page looked very like the one he doodled in his notebooks constantly. And who else would write him a silly poem the morning after he gave one to Geralt?</p>
<p>Shit, he had to get ready for class.</p>
<p>He spent the entire morning in a fog of ideas, though he somehow managed to pay attention most of the time. Lunch came; he dreaded it. What if Geralt said something?</p>
<p>He needn’t have bothered worrying. Geralt was the same grumpy silent block as usual when other people were around, and he didn’t give any sign that he noticed that Jaskier’s chatter was a little nervous.</p>
<p>Afternoon classes went fine. Then they met up again in their corner of the student lounge and settled right into complaining about the philosophy professor. Jaskier was getting his Master’s in both Education and Music; he wanted to be a music teacher, or just a regular Creative Writing teacher, he wasn’t picky. But philosophy had always been interesting to him. Geralt was also going into Education, but he hadn’t decided what he’d be teaching. Jaskier ended up teasing him that night by telling him he’d have to either turn to mathematics, which he was actually quite good at, or physical education, which made Geralt shudder.</p>
<p>Jaskier had almost forgotten about writing another poem until Geralt growled something about gym classes being traumatic to most kids and his voice sent shivers down Jaskier’s spine. Kindness… his kindness, and the deep emotions barely showing on his face, but to Jaskier were so clear. A rough voice speaking words of understanding. Yes. Jaskier could work with that.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>It took hours of hopping between poems and homework, but finally, Jaskier hazarded that this monstrosity was good enough. He signed it with a dandelion, and slipped out of his room at midnight to slip the paper under Geralt’s door, before hurrying back to his room.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>When they say you are stone-faced,<br/>I have to laugh<br/>Because darling, oh darling,<br/>You are so much more than that.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Your kindness and compassion<br/>put the greatest ones to shame.<br/>Your understanding of a child’s heart<br/>makes you more than just a name</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>On the pillar of Great Men,<br/>On the halls of Great People.<br/>You are my sunshine, starlight, moonbeam.<br/>Yes, it’s really quite that simple.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>When they say we’re ill matched,<br/>I really have to laugh<br/>Because darling, oh my darling,<br/>You are so much more than that.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Geralt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>oh my god there's gonna be so much plot I'm mad</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt almost missed his first class of the day, staring at that poem.</p><p>Was it a confession? Was Jaskier… confessing his feelings? No, surely not. Surely he meant it in a friendly way. Jaskier was always poetic, of course that would bleed over into being sweet for a friend.</p><p>There was also the chance that it wasn’t Jaskier.</p><p>But who else could it be? Geralt was bewildered, almost distressed, because everyone except Jaskier, Mouse, and Ciri treated him like dirt. He was too old to be a student; he’d been given accommodations that his neurotypical classmates saw as “unfair”; and Yennefer had said right out that he wasn’t good enough for her, in any way, and that he was lucky Ciri was <em>his</em> godchild, otherwise she wouldn’t allow him to see her.</p><p>Who would write him sweet poems about how he was more than what others said? How he was someone’s sunshine? Who except Jaskier?</p><p>Geralt felt like shit for writing such a terrible couplet and thinking that was good enough. He had to do better. He had to—</p><p>It was eight o’clock. Fuck.</p><p>He had woken to the jarring noise of people talking in the dorm room below his. He’d been given a room to himself, to cut down on sensory overload, but he could already tell that today was going to be hell. He brought his earplugs and headphones, and his sunglasses, and dressed in his usual black, because black was a neutral color, he didn’t care if it made him look like a wanna-be goth. He packed his bookbag, tied his hair back in a tail because he didn’t want it touching his face or the sides of his neck, and slid out of his room. At least the hall was clear.</p><p>Except for Jaskier, who was gathering up books and papers off the floor with a pale, set face and trembling hands.</p><p>Geralt forgot about being late, and instead hurried over to help. He could see that Jaskier was so upset that he was on the verge of crying, but it was anger, not distress.</p><p>“May he have an apoplexy and perish,” Jaskier muttered, accepting the papers Geralt had gathered and neatened. From this, Geralt guessed who was the culprit. Valdo Marx was an asshole, and the only reason he hadn’t been thrown out was because no one could pin anything on him. Harassing fellow music students was the least of his crimes—but there was never proof, and that enraged Jaskier as nothing else did.</p><p>Also, Jaskier was Marx’s favorite target, which just increased Jaskier’s hatred. And anyone Jaskier hated, Geralt hated more.</p><p>But Geralt said nothing, just helped Jaskier up and walked with him down the stairs and to the outside door. They parted ways there, but Jaskier gave Geralt a wan smile before turning and hurrying away. Geralt put on his sunglasses and headphones, turned up his playlist of thunderstorm ambiance, and ran to class.</p><p>~</p><p>The cafeteria was too much. Geralt sat outside, under a tree, with his head in his hands (so blessedly dark with the heels of his palms jammed against his closed eyes), and listened to his ambiance, because it was either that or the sounds of people talking, and he was ready to scream if anyone spoke too close to him.</p><p>The smell of peonies and old metal. Someone sat beside him, but did not speak. It could only be Jaskier, released from two hours of orchestra. Geralt almost took off his headphones, but he still felt tight and agitated and on the verge of crying. So instead, he lifted his head, and put on his sunglasses again.</p><p>It was Jaskier. He didn’t even look up from scribbling in his notebook, but he did pass his phone to Geralt. He had a notes app on it that they used to communicate when Geralt was nonverbal or couldn’t take off his headphones. Geralt accepted the phone.</p><p>
  <em>Do you want me to call your professors?</em>
</p><p>Geralt hesitated. He had permission to ask Jaskier to call his professors to say he couldn’t come to class, but he’d already missed a day last week. He wasn’t sure he should miss anything this week.</p><p>But he really couldn’t take this, he really couldn’t, so he typed, <em>Yes please</em>.</p><p>Jaskier accepted his phone back, read quickly, then held out his hand. Geralt touched his palm briefly. He couldn’t do more contact than that right now. Jaskier nodded and stood, walking away and dialing teachers.</p><p>Geralt felt horrible, like a failure, but it was either fail to show up in class or have a meltdown. He hadn’t had a public meltdown since he was ten—mother had made sure of that. But there was always a chance. And he couldn’t afford to have people see him curled up in a corner rocking and muttering nonsense, all the different spells his godfather had taught him. Geralt had lost his belief in magic, but it was soothing to speak them, and remember Vesemir bandaging a wound or sprinkling herbs in a pot or dripping honey in a mug of water and murmuring the spells to ease pain and tension.</p><p>He realized he was mumbling the spell for a clear mind over and over, because the words felt good and the memories were kind.</p><p>Jaskier sat beside him again, and stayed there, not judging, not speaking, not even really paying attention, just… being close. Being an anchor point. If Geralt needed him, all he had to do was speak his name or touch him.</p><p>Was there any better friend in the world than Jaskier?</p><p>~</p><p>
  <em>Roses are red,<br/>Violets aren’t blue,<br/>I like your smile,<br/>and being around you.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Geralt drew the wolf, shakily, and tried to decide when to slide it under Jaskier’s door. Jaskier didn’t have a roommate either, but that was only because his parents had money, and even if they weren’t talking to him, they were rich enough to bribe the school into giving him the luxury of a private room. So there’d be no roommates to deal with if he just did it now, before Jaskier came back from giving lessons to kids in the city.</p><p>But there would be other people in the hall. Geralt put his hands over his ears, closed his eyes tightly, and rocked in his desk chair, wishing the world would just shut up and let him <em>exist</em> for an hour. Why was everything always so <em>loud</em>?</p><p>It was almost time for his run. He didn’t want to. What if he broke down on the street? But also, if he didn’t get out of this tiny room and get some exercise, he was going to start throwing things. So he stood, and jerkily put on his running-clothes. Time to do laundry. Later, though. Later, when he could convince Jaskier to come with him. Jaskier didn’t understand why Geralt needed him to do laundry, and to be honest, Geralt didn’t know either; but he did. Since Jaskier had rearranged his own laundry schedule to match Geralt’s, it was mostly okay.</p><p>There was no one in the hall, but some doors were open. Geralt tucked the poem under Jaskier’s door quickly, and went for his run.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*tosses you a fencing sword* Winner has to comment. I must warn you, I am clumsy as shit and have no idea how this works. Engarde!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Jaskier</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier almost cried, reading Geralt’s poem.</p>
<p>He had been so knotted up all day, and not even the adorable kids who tried so hard to do well in their lessons could make him happy, though he smiled and encouraged them. Valdo had been particularly obnoxious, and laughed when Jaskier finally blew up and shouted at him to keep his fucking mouth off Jaskier’s mother. Jaskier was the one who got in trouble for that. Valdo oozed his way out of a reprimand more easily than a slug.</p>
<p>And dealing with Geralt’s professors, especially the one they shared, Professor Schmitt, had worn on Jaskier’s temper too. None of them liked that Geralt was allowed an education if he was “too autistic to function” as Schmitt had put it. Jaskier wanted to scream at them all. Geralt was doing his best, and it was a damn sight better than most of the rich neurotypical kids they let through with perfect grades just because they wanted to get rid of them.</p>
<p>But Jaskier had come home and found this little poem with the shaky wolf, and it all just… felt better. It didn’t disappear, of course. But it felt better.</p>
<p>Jaskier sat and wrote a poem right there and then.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Day looked at Night<br/>and asked,<br/>“What is the point<br/>of us being opposite?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Night said back,<br/>“The point, my dear,<br/>is that<br/>we aren’t.”</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>We’re not?”<br/>“No.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Because Day brings light,<br/>But so does Night,<br/>In its own soft, wavering way.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Because Night brings a hush,<br/>Starting at dusk,<br/>But the dawn quiet belongs to Day.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>That’s us, too.<br/>Me and you.<br/>I’ll bring you light,<br/>My darling Night.<br/>You’ve offered me silence,<br/>And I will abide this.<br/>My smile for yours,<br/>I’ll open the doors.<br/>My darling, my dear,<br/>I’m here. I’m here.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Yes, Jaskier admitted that it was shit and the meter and rhyme made no sense. But he wasn’t feeling right, and this was as close as he could get. He signed with a dandelion, and the words, <em>(I’m sorry this one sucks)</em>.</p>
<p>Then he had to wait for the study group next door to adjourn, so he could hurry down and slide the poem home.</p>
<p>He went to bed still upset, but happy to know that Geralt liked him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Geralt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm gonna have to remove a couple tags due to Plot going sideways</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The poem under his door made Geralt feel strangely… happy. Night and Day… ‘I’m here’, the poem said. Wasn’t that exactly what Jaskier had said, that horrible day early in their friendship, when they’d been studying in Jaskier’s room and Geralt had just… gone down? Jaskier had immediately dropped to the floor next to him, handing him the pillow to bite and scream into. And he hadn’t touched Geralt, just murmured, “It’ll be okay, Geralt. I’m here, and I’m not going to let you be hurt. I’m here.”</p><p>Geralt had never asked how he’d known it had been a panic-response, triggered by the book he was reading for his Psychology class. Why the professor had thought making someone with PTSD read a book that was so terrifyingly raw and personal was a good idea, Geralt didn’t know. He’d dropped that class, and replaced it with Philosophy. At least dry tomes about human nature didn’t give him panic attacks.</p><p>He didn’t have classes that day. So he decided to visit Ciri.</p><p>First, he texted Yennefer. Then he packed his bookbag with study materials and homework, and a bar of chocolate. Ciri loved chocolate, and she loved trying to read the textbooks out loud to Geralt. She was only six, and she was reading his philosophy textbooks, and making very good points about their contents, with great ease.</p><p>Horrible, that her parents had died in that crash. But her grandmother was busy being a senator and her grandfather was busy being a proud trophy husband, and neither of them felt it was safe to have her live with them. So they’d remembered the guy Ciri’s parents had been friends with, and asked him to care for her.</p><p>And then the problems with Yenn started…</p><p>It was hard going, because he had to change buses twice and both were crowded, but finally he arrived in the little suburb where Yennefer lived with Ciri. Geralt had moved into the college dorms when Yennefer kicked him out, but the house was still his. All of it was his, but Yennefer had taken over and pushed him away, and he’d just… gone with it.</p><p>He felt himself straighten and brighten when the front door burst open and Ciri ran screaming across the lawn towards him. She was screaming “DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY”, and even though the yelling of small children usually made Geralt flinch, Ciri’s bright voice only made him happy. He scooped her up in his arms and hugged her, grinning as she hugged back fiercely.</p><p>Yennefer came out as well and strolled to her car. Beautiful as always, her hair glossy and perfectly curled, her lipstick dark and her makeup perfect behind her designer sunglasses. She didn’t even look at Geralt as she got in the car, called, “Be good, Cirilla,” and slammed the door shut. Then she started the car, backed out of the driveway, and sped off gods knew where.</p><p>“Daddy?” Ciri asked, without raising her head.</p><p>“Yes, dearest?” Geralt asked as he walked across the lawn to the door.</p><p>“Why does Yenn hate me?”</p><p>Geralt sighed quietly. “Ciri, my love, Yennefer doesn’t hate you,” he said firmly, and stepped inside the house. It looked the same as always, except that the ceilings were painted pale blue now. It didn’t go well with the dusty tan walls.</p><p>“She doesn’t <em>care</em>, though.” Ciri tightened her arms around Geralt’s neck. “Not like you.”</p><p>“She’s just not good with children, dear one.” Geralt walked into the living room and shifted his grip on Ciri to take off his bookbag. “It’s not your fault. Would you like some chocolate?”</p><p>Ciri finally let go with a squeal of joy, and Geralt grinned as he rescued the chocolate from his bag.</p><p>They read his textbooks together, and Ciri convinced him to play Connect Four, and they watched The Princess and The Frog. Twice. Geralt ordered pizza for lunch, and Ciri laughed when he insisted on cleaning her face when she was done. He knew she was old enough to do it herself. He really did. But she was so small and he was so worried.</p><p>“Jaskier would love you,” he found himself saying, not for the first time.</p><p>“When do I get to meet him?” Ciri asked. “Will he love me more than Yenn does?”</p><p>“Oh, probably. I… don’t know when, though. I’ll ask him.”</p><p>Ciri was very excited to play with her father, and Geralt was willing to do anything for her, within reason. For instance, he gladly gave her piggy-back rides and played House with her, but when she demanded that he give her the brownies that Yennefer had bought from her friend, Geralt had to cautiously explain, again, that they were grown-up brownies, and Yennefer would not be happy if they ate any.</p><p>He also had to force down a surge of anger, that Yennefer was still bringing pot brownies into a house with a small child.</p><p>Yennefer texted Geralt at six that she would be home in two hours and he’d better be prepared to piss off when she got there. Geralt didn’t let Ciri see how hurt he was; he just told her gently, “Yenn will be home in two hours. Is there anything else you want to do before she gets here?”</p><p>Ciri’s smile dropped, and her little face grew dismayed. She knew this part. Yenn would come home, and Geralt would leave for a while again. Yenn would probably snipe at him, and he would struggle not to be mean right back. And it would all happen in front of Ciri, because Yennefer didn’t care about her seeing Geralt go quiet and cold and need to leave.</p><p>Ciri deserved better than this setup. But Geralt wasn’t sure how to fix it.</p><p>“I want to come home with you,” she said softly. “I don’t want to live with Yenn anymore.”</p><p>And oh, gods, that almost broke Geralt’s heart. He wanted so badly to take her somewhere safe—or kick Yenn out, and take back his home, and raise Ciri with love.</p><p>But this was how things had been for four years. This was how things had to be.</p><p>“You can’t live with me right now,” Geralt replied, crouching in front of her and taking her hands in his. “I live in a dorm. I’m not allowed to have kids there.”</p><p>“So move here!” Ciri retorted, her face splotchy red and upset. “Make Yenn go away and move here!”</p><p>“I can’t,” he told her, and wondered why his eyes were burning and the world looked wobbly and fractured. “Ciri, love, I can’t.”</p><p>~</p><p>He couldn’t write a poem that night. So instead he just wrote out his feelings, hard as that was. He laid out the cold, bare facts, and tried to put into words how they made him feel. He ended up filling four pages of his notebook, front and back, and then he ran out of steam, and rubbed his eyes, and wondered if this was too much.</p><p>He’d been friends with Jaskier for two years. Surely that was enough time.</p><p>He wrote one last note at the bottom before stapling them.</p><p>
  <em>Ciri wants to meet you.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>there, two in one day. I hope you liked Plot.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Jaskier</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's coming...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier didn’t hesitate. It was Saturday, and orchestra had been canceled because Valdo couldn’t come in (skeezy fucker, probably had a hangover), so after reading the pages Geralt had given him, he tucked them away carefully in his old books of blank music sheets that he had filled up and still kept, and marched on down to Geralt’s room. A brisk knock, and Geralt opened the door. His hair was pulled back in the front and his face was stony, but Jaskier was not intimidated.</p>
<p>“May I come in?” he asked.</p>
<p>Geralt nodded and stepped out of the way.</p>
<p>Geralt’s room was the mirror opposite of Jaskier’s, and the walls were bare of posters and cork boards and paintings. It felt very empty… until Jaskier noticed the little cabinet in the corner, with what looked like a little shrine on it.</p>
<p>“You’re religious?” he asked, surprised, when Geralt had closed the door again.</p>
<p>Geralt shook his head, and muttered, “My godfather was. I… want to honor him.” The words didn’t fit right in Geralt’s mouth; like he wasn’t sure how to word what he wanted to say. Jaskier nodded, and decided to move on.</p>
<p>“When do I get to meet Ciri?” he asked. “I’m willing to go today, if this Yennefer lady isn’t too pissy about it.”</p>
<p>“She’s not pissy,” Geralt replied, but it sounded rote, like something he’d been trying to convince himself of for a while. “And… well… I don’t know if she’ll let me—”</p>
<p>Geralt’s phone buzzed. Jaskier got out of Geralt’s way as he walked over and grabbed it. Gods, every time they got close, Jaskier wanted to touch or kiss him, and that longing made his insides hurt. But instead he stepped back, giving Geralt space.</p>
<p>Usually, Geralt’s expressions were faint. But now, his entire face lightened, and he stood up straighter, as he quickly typed back a response. Then he looked up at Jaskier and asked, “Would you like to go to the water park with me and Ciri?”</p>
<p>Jaskier felt himself brighten too. “Would I ever! Yes, let me grab my swimtrunks and we’ll go!”</p>
<p>Geralt’s smile was bigger than it had been in a long time, and Jaskier wanted even more to kiss him. Fuck, he wasn’t going to survive til next Saturday, was he?</p>
<p>That didn’t matter. He ran to his room to quickly stuff a bag with a towel, his swimtrunks, and his single pair of flipflops that he used in the showers (seriously, who knew what kind of gross bacteria was on the floor in there?), then grabbed his wallet and phone and hurried out the door. Geralt met him in the hall, also carrying a bag, and they went out to the parking lot together.</p>
<p>Jaskier had a car. It was tired and old and the knob for the gear-lever was wiggly, but it worked. Geralt hated it, but there wasn’t much they could do about it.</p>
<p>The drive to Geralt’s house was fairly normal for them: Geralt gave quiet directions, and Jaskier followed them, chattering about anything that came into his head. Jaskier watched Geralt carefully, and when his expression started to be a little strained, Jaskier quickly finished his story about his student who had managed to skin his fingers trying to play guitar without a pick, and then was silent. Geralt began to relax.</p>
<p>Until they turned down the street, and Geralt stiffened again in anger.</p>
<p>A little girl, couldn’t be more than six, was pacing up and down the sidewalk. When Jaskier parked, Geralt got out immediately and walked over. The little girl shrieked gleefully, “Daddy! You’re here!” and held up her arms. Geralt picked her up easily, and hugged her so tight. Jaskier got out just in time to hear Geralt ask, “Why are you out here?”</p>
<p>“Yenn said to wait and I didn’t want to watch her shows,” the little girl answered frankly. Then her eyes went to Jaskier, and widened. “You’re Jaskier!” she said, pointing at him.</p>
<p>Jaskier grinned and approached. “Yes, I am. Hello. You’re Ciri, right?”</p>
<p>The little girl nodded. “Daddy said you were tall,” she said in disappointment. “I thought you’d be taller than him.”</p>
<p>Jaskier had to laugh. “Did he? Geralt, you sly fellow, have you been talking about me behind my back?”</p>
<p>Geralt actually blushed, and Ciri nodded again. “He says you’re the best,” she said bluntly.</p>
<p>“Ciri,” Geralt growled, but nervously, not angrily. “Where’s your things?”</p>
<p>“Oh, they’re inside, but Yenn told me to wait outside so I didn’t go back and get them.”</p>
<p>Jaskier saw the thundercloud brewing on Geralt’s face, and was about to offer to go and collect them, when the door suddenly opened and a very beautiful woman in a purple dressing gown over a white lacy pajama set stepped out.</p>
<p>“Cirilla,” she called, her voice irritated, “Come get your bag.”</p>
<p>Geralt set Ciri down, and she ran over to the house and skipped inside. The beautiful woman eyed Jaskier; he eyed her back. Impeccable fashion, and her hair caught up in a ponytail that curled at the ends. She looked vaguely interested, and her eyese lingered on his chest. He’d left his shirt unbuttoned a little—his last girlfriend said he had a “fucking pelt”, which was why he was always overheating—and now he felt uncomfortable, letting this woman see that much of his skin.</p>
<p>“This is Yennefer,” Geralt told him neutrally. “Yennefer, this is Jaskier.”</p>
<p>“Your boyfriend,” she replied flatly. “I guessed.”</p>
<p>Jaskier flushed, and was confused at himself. Usually he laughed such accusations off. But he didn’t want to laugh. So he smiled, a little tightly, and said, “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken our relationship, Miss Yennefer.”</p>
<p>Ciri appeared at that moment, carrying a tote bag as big as her torso, and ran back to Geralt. “We’re going now,” Geralt told Yennefer, and turned back to the car. Jaskier moved out of the way as Geralt opened the back door so Ciri could climb in, and found himself wishing he had the courage to touch Geralt in public.</p>
<p>But finally, they were all in the car and buckled, and off to the water park.</p>
<p>“How did you and Daddy meet?” Ciri asked Jaskier, kicking her feet as she looked around the car interior. She was so tiny! Did she really not need a seat?</p>
<p>Jaskier couldn’t help grinning. “Fencing, actually,” he replied. “My parents are kind of… controlling, so I had to join a school club. Fencing seemed good enough. Geralt was already better than even the teacher, but we managed a few bouts just fine.” Meaning Geralt had dumped Jaskier on his behind plenty of times before Jaskier started pestering him for help with practice. Geralt had been a much better teacher, and Jaskier had said so, to everyone who told him he was just going to get his heart broken if he kept chasing Geralt.</p>
<p>“Daddy, you sword-fight?!” Ciri squealed, bouncing in her seat.</p>
<p>“Yes, dear one,” Geralt replied, smiling softly over his shoulder at her. “Not so much now, but I did for a while.”</p>
<p>“You only stopped because other people started catching up to you,” Jaskier teased, pushing Geralt’s shoulder gently with one hand. Geralt just shook his head.</p>
<p>Ciri asked a million questions of Jaskier, and he answered easily. He asked his own, small, cautious ones, and Ciri was breathtakingly frank, especially when it came to her father. It was obvious she loved him, and he loved her, in his quiet, subtle way. Jaskier felt a strange yearning in his chest, to be part of that love. To be part of this family.</p>
<p>But that was dumb. So he just smiled and asked Ciri her thoughts on Plato, and was delighted to have an entire conversation with her about the Allegory of the Cave. She was only six, and still thought very much in terms of black-and-white; but she had object permanence, and a roaring imagination, and unfortunately compared being a prisoner tied with her back to the fire to being sat in timeout at her own birthday party, seeing the shadows of everyone playing on the wall, but not being able to turn and join in.</p>
<p>“So if someone lived like that all the time,” she ended thoughtfully, “Knowing that something is happening but not able to see it or even really believe in it, I guess that would be really sad and they wouldn’t be happy at all.”</p>
<p>“No, love, they wouldn’t be,” Jaskier replied softly, thinking of his own childhood.</p>
<p>“Why’d you call me that?”</p>
<p>Jaskier blinked and glanced in the rearview mirror. Ciri was looking at him in confusion. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”</p>
<p>“Daddy does it all the time,” Ciri replied frankly, “So I guess it’s okay if you do too. Daddy said you’re his best friend anyway.”</p>
<p>Jaskier felt himself grin and blush, feeling all warm and tingly. “Is that so? Happy to be of service, Geralt.” He turned his grin on Geralt, and was surprised that Geralt was blushing too.</p>
<p>Thankfully, they arrived at the water park soon after. Geralt paid for admission, and shooed Ciri into the ladies’ changing room after extracting a promise to wear her water-shoes too. Jaskier ducked into the men’s changing room, and eagerly claimed a stall to change in. He stuffed his clothes in his bag and exited just as Ciri did too. She looked adorable in a sparkly blue-and-green bathing suit, shifting impatiently as Geralt finished braiding her hair.</p>
<p>“Stay with Jaskier,” Geralt ordered, stood, looked at Jaskier—and blinked. Before Jaskier could ask what <em>that</em> expression on his face was, Geralt walked past him and into the changing rooms.</p>
<p>Jaskier grinned at Ciri. “I say we go to the pool before he comes back,” he said.</p>
<p>Ciri thought about this for a moment. “Daddy doesn’t like it when I’m not where he told me to be,” she said thoughtfully, “But he only said to stay with you. So I would say it’s fine.”</p>
<p>“I’ll text him real quick,” Jaskier told her, and dug out his phone to fire off a text that said <em>Going to the pool, meet us there X</em>.</p>
<p>As he was shoving his phone back in his bag, Ciri asked with the artless curiosity of small children, “Why are you so hairy? You’re worse than Dad.”</p>
<p>Jaskier laughed. He’d often wondered that himself. “Genetics, I guess. Has Geralt let you read Diogenes? Or are you supposed to stick to the tame stuff?”</p>
<p>Ciri brightened as they walked to the pool. “I’ve read his entire textbook,” she said proudly. “My favorite is when he threw a chicken at Plato!”</p>
<p>Jaskier laughed again. He liked Ciri. She was a good kid, one he didn’t mind at all. “That’s certainly a memorable occasion!”</p>
<p>Swimming was fun. The park was crowded—the days had been getting hot for spring. But it was alright. Ciri insisted on recreating the lake scene from Dirty Dancing, and Jaskier obliged with a grin, falling back after he caught her and popping them both to the surface. Ciri laughed, hugged him, and struck out on her own, and Jaskier followed easily. He’d missed swimming, actually.</p>
<p>He taught Ciri to back-float, and then they both caught sight of Geralt sitting in a chair at the side of the pool, and swam over to him. Jaskier just hooked his elbows on the edge and crossed his arms, grinning at Geralt, but Ciri went one further by scrambling out of the pool and flinging her dripping arms around him, soaking his t-shirt. Geralt hugged her back, and Jaskier wondered if he was okay, with all the screaming children, yelling parents, and loud splashing. But he didn’t want to get out of the pool just yet. The water was cool and the sun was hot.</p>
<p>“Daddy, Daddy, come swim with us!” Ciri caroled, trying to literally drag her father off his chair and to the pool. He resisted, but he was smiling a little.</p>
<p>“No, dearheart, there’s too many people,” he told her.</p>
<p>Ciri pouted, but Jaskier added, “Y’know, actually, he’s right. How about we hit the slides?”</p>
<p>“Daddy doesn’t like the slides,” Ciri told Jaskier, still pouting.</p>
<p>“That doesn’t mean you two can’t go on them,” Geralt said, and grabbed their bags. “I’ll come with you.”</p>
<p>Jaskier climbed out of the pool and slicked his hair back out of his eyes, ignoring the giggling young ladies a few feet away. Yes, yes, he knew he looked ridiculous in searing orange trunks with a Hawaiian print, but at least he wasn’t wearing a sunshirt that matched, like some of the other guys here. A couple other people, notably the couple lounging nearest them, looked at Jaskier with deep disgust. He ignored them. Orange was a perfectly fine color.</p>
<p>Ciri suddenly grabbed Jaskier’s hand. Her own hand was tight around Geralt’s. Jaskier saw no reason for Geralt’s faint pink blush, unless he was embarrassed about them being mistaken for a couple. Jaskier didn’t really mind. They’d been dealing with it from fellow students for two years, a water park where no one knew them wasn’t too bad.</p>
<p>Geralt stood in some shade a ways back from the slides. Ciri screamed joyfully on the slides, and Jaskier laughed too, because he’d missed the rush, and then the deep cold as he plunged into the water. It was lots of fun, and Ciri insisted on going three times before Geralt came over and said they should take a break. Jaskier immediately knew what he meant: the noise, the crowd, the bright sun even with his shades on, it was probably a nightmare. So while Ciri complained, Jaskier just nodded.</p>
<p>Lunch was a bunch of snacks that Ciri had shoved in her tote. Jaskier happily demolished the caramel candies while Ciri inhaled chocolate biscuits, and Geralt nibbled some sugar snap peas. Bottles of water to wash it all down, and then Jaskier scooped up Ciri, put her on his shoulders where she gleefully grabbed his hair, and told Geralt cheerfully, “We’ll be back soon, promise.”</p>
<p>They went to the splash area first, and Ciri had the time of her life. Jaskier stood around with the other adults, watching to make sure Ciri didn’t fall and hurt herself. He felt very full of paternal instincts, and managed to swoop in just as her foot snagged on a bump in the concrete and she started to fall.</p>
<p>“Nice catch,” an older woman called from the sidelines.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he replied with a brief smile, made sure Ciri was alright, and let her go again. When he moved back out of the way again, combing his hair out of his eyes, the woman drifted over to him.</p>
<p>“She yours?” the woman asked.</p>
<p>Jaskier shook his head. “My friend’s. He’s had a bad few days, so I’m helping with her today.”</p>
<p>“Mm.” The woman inched a little closer. Her wide sun-hat and big sunglasses were very pretty, but completely dry. Why was she wearing a swimsuit if she wasn’t going to get wet? “What’s your name?”</p>
<p>Seeing no reason to lie, Jaskier answered. “Jaskier. Yours?”</p>
<p>“Patricia.”</p>
<p>“Lovely name.” He smiled politely, and his head snapped up as Ciri’s distinctive shriek rang out. No, she wasn’t injured, nor was she in a fight; she’d just been knocked into by a bigger girl, and they were laughing together now, before parting ways again. Ciri’s braid was coming undone. She wiped hair out of her eyes, then pelted for Jaskier, weaving through the other kids.</p>
<p>“Are you sin—” Patricia started to ask, then stopped as Jaskier stepped away to meet Ciri, picking her up and throwing her in air a little before catching her. Ciri laughed and hugged him tightly, then asked excitedly, “Can we go swim more?”</p>
<p>“Sure, love. Get rid of that sugar buzz so you can sleep tonight.” He nodded to Patricia with another polite smile, said, “Nice meeting you,” and carried Ciri back to the pool.</p>
<p>He wasn’t at all surprised for Geralt to meet them there. He <em>was</em> surprised to see his mouth tight and his frown thunderous.</p>
<p>“Daddy, come swim, come swim!”</p>
<p>Geralt sighed, then nodded, and took off his soaked shirt.</p>
<p>Jaskier did <em>not</em> feel a jolt of ‘Oh fuck he’s hot’ before turning his gaze away. He told himself that, anyway. He accepted the shirt and the glasses, and tried not to look as Geralt tied his hair back, then slid in the pool and caught Ciri as she jumped at him. Jaskier grinned and sat in a chair, putting on Geralt’s sunglasses himself to hide how his gaze tracked them wistfully.</p>
<p>He liked pretending to be part of this little family. But he wanted it to be more than pretend.</p>
<p>Patricia settled in the chair beside him. He started and blinked, then said, “Hello again.”</p>
<p>“Hello,” she replied, smiling. “I was going to ask, are you single?”</p>
<p>“Um.” Jaskier felt suddenly, deeply uncomfortable. She was a lovely lady, and he’d never minded the ages of the older women he’d slept with, but there was a hell of a difference between being picked up at a bar or club and being picked up at a public water park where he’d only come as a guardian for a small child. “It’s complicated,” he temporized. Glancing at her hand in her lap, he saw she wore a ring. “You’re not, though.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” She quickly covered the ring with her other hand, her smile going tight. “It’s complicated for me, too. The divorce only just went through.”</p>
<p>Liar, Jaskier thought to himself. But what he said was, “Oh, I’m sorry. Divorces can get messy.”</p>
<p>“Tell me about it. Ah, that man, the one you were talking to—was that your friend?”</p>
<p>“Yep.” Jaskier found them again, racing up and down the pool—Geralt won, but stopped and pretended he had an ache in his arm so Ciri could furiously swim past him and touch the wall. Jaskier had to smile. Geralt was such a good dad.</p>
<p>“Oh. He’s the complication?” Patricia’s voice was icy, and Jaskier looked at her again, startled, smile slipping away. Her face was very tight and cold behind her sunglasses.</p>
<p>Would it make her go away if he said yes?</p>
<p>“Maybe,” he replied, which was as close to yes as he could get.</p>
<p>“I’ll pray for your soul,” Patricia snapped, stood, and walked away.</p>
<p>Jaskier blinked, shrugged, and settled back in his chair. Geralt was smiling as Ciri splashed him. He looked so nice when he smiled.</p>
<p>They were all tired when they left the park. Geralt carried Ciri on his back; she was whining about how she wasn’t tired and could walk on her own, but the way her limbs dangled said she was exhausted from playing most of the day. Jaskier carried all three bags, and watched Geralt patiently repeat to Ciri over and over that no, they couldn’t stay until dark. Every reason she thought up to stay, Geralt gently countered.</p>
<p>Jaskier felt so alien and outside their little bubble of softness. It hurt.</p>
<p>Dinner was McDonald’s. Ciri fell asleep in the car, and Yennefer allowed Geralt to carry her into the house. Jaskier stayed in the car, thinking wistfully that it would be nice, to have a family of his own. Not that he was ready for that kind of commitment, but it would be nice, someday.</p>
<p>Geralt came back. They drove back to campus in silence. Geralt stared out the window, and Jaskier couldn’t think of anything to say.</p>
<p>As they trudged up the walk to the dorms, Geralt asked suddenly, “Did you like her?”</p>
<p>“Ciri? Oh, she’s an absolute darling. She probably gets it from you.”</p>
<p>Geralt chuckled, warm and soft, and Jaskier <em>ached</em>, deep in his chest. “I certainly hope so. She liked you a lot.”</p>
<p>“I am honestly flattered,” Jaskier said, and he meant it. Then, a little more timidly, “Is it alright if I come with you again next time?”</p>
<p>“To see her?”</p>
<p>“Yes. It’s… it’s refreshing, seeing a parent and child get along.” And he wanted to be there. He wanted to bask in the reflected love. He wanted to pretend he had a chance.</p>
<p>Geralt had been silent for a while. Then he said, “I would like that.”</p>
<p>I. Not she, not we. I. Jaskier’s breath caught, but he turned it into a cough. “Well then! It’s a plan,” he said, trying to sound merely happy instead of almost giddy.</p>
<p>Geralt smiled, teeth white in the gathering dusk. His eyes seemed to glow amber-gold, even in the dark.</p>
<p>When he returned to his room after a thorough shower, Jaskier sat and wrote.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You laughed today.<br/>I saw Heaven in your smile.<br/>Your eyes crinkled up,<br/>And your wolf-teeth flashed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>We went to the pool.<br/>You brought your daughter.<br/>Your eyes were so soft,<br/>Even when you got splashed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I would bare my throat for you.<br/>I would let your wolf-teeth sink in.<br/>Your eyes are like the stars<br/>But in the moonlight, they flashed.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Geralt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <em>it's almost here....</em>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt decided it was time to corner Jaskier and get it all out in the open.</p>
<p>He did it after he’d finished his run and his homework. So at eleven o’clock PM, he went and quietly knocked on Jaskier’s door.</p>
<p>Jaskier opened it quickly, confused. “Geralt? What’s—”</p>
<p>“I need to talk to you,” Geralt interrupted. “Can I come in?”</p>
<p>For some reason, Jaskier looked frightened. But he nodded, and stepped aside, and let Geralt in.</p>
<p>As soon as the door was closed, Geralt shoved a piece of paper into Jaskier’s hands.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Roses are red,<br/>It’s not the same without you,<br/>I know these poems suck,<br/>But is it really you?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Jaskier’s face turned crimson, and he opened and closed his mouth several times before squeaking, “Yes.”</p>
<p>Geralt nodded, relieved. “I hoped it was,” he said quietly.</p>
<p>Jaskier looked up, startled, confused, and still so, so scared. It hurt. It literally hurt, seeing Jaskier so scared. Geralt hesitated, looking into eyes like polished sapphires… and then he said, “Oh, fuck it,” closed the distance between them, cupped Jaskier’s face in his hands, and kissed him.</p>
<p>Jaskier dropped the paper and grabbed Geralt’s shirt, his breath shuddering, but pressing as close as he could. Geralt did the same, glorying in the peace that came with finally doing this. Yes. Yes, okay, yes, he’d been wanting to kiss Jaskier for a long time now. And judging by the way Jaskier was whimpering and apparently trying to meld their bodies together, he felt the same.</p>
<p>It was a wonderful, glorious, perfect moment, of finally letting down every wall and guard. But he had to breathe at some point, so he backed away, slowly, reluctantly, grinning as Jaskier whined.</p>
<p>“That was easier than I expected,” he murmured.</p>
<p>Jaskier grinned back. “Yeah. You’re right. I should’ve just asked for this right from the beginning. Of course, then I wouldn’t have gotten your poems.”</p>
<p>Geralt winced, and Jaskier laughed. “Those poems were dog shit and you know it,” Geralt muttered.</p>
<p>“They came from the heart. That makes them priceless. Come here.”</p>
<p>Another kiss, softer, quieter, melting instead of melding. Their arms settled around each other better, so they could press together more snugly, and Geralt wondered why kissing Yennefer had never felt this safe.</p>
<p>Maybe adventure and challenges just weren’t for him. Maybe someone steadfast and calming was what he wanted.</p>
<p>“Can I still write poems for you?” Jaskier murmured when they parted again.</p>
<p>“You already know I’m addicted to them,” Geralt whispered.</p>
<p>Jaskier started giggling, and didn’t stop until Geralt kissed him again.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>So they started being something other than friends.</p>
<p>They did their best to never let anyone know. Kisses and Jaskier reading poetry to Geralt and soft talks about the future—oh fuck, that’s right, they could have a <em>future</em> together—remained secrets that only happened late at night. They took Ciri to a movie and Jaskier stole Geralt’s popcorn. He’d never done that before. It took all of Geralt’s self-control not to grin.</p>
<p>Spring break hit. Normally, Geralt got a hotel room and just hid there for all of break, reading and listening to music and wishing people would stop having loud sex. But this year, instead, Jaskier invited him to the flat his parents owned but didn’t use.</p>
<p>This was a very, very big step. But Geralt agreed.</p>
<p>It was quiet. It was all painted soothing shades of blue and yellow and white. The furniture was meant to be comfortable, not pretty.</p>
<p>And the very first night, after Jaskier had finished showing him around and they’d had dinner and settled in, they sat on the couch and Jaskier brought out his lute, which he rarely played in public anymore, and sang silly love songs until Geralt scooped him into his lap and silenced Jaskier with a kiss. Jaskier laughed and didn’t sing any more love songs.</p>
<p>The next day was nice because… it was different. They could lounge around doing nothing, or they could dance (Jaskier was still trying to convince Geralt that foxtrots were still A Thing), or they could turn the kitchen into an absolute mess experimenting with baking. Or they could do all three. Which they did. And Geralt found himself <em>liking</em> this place, liking the freedom to just <em>be</em> with Jaskier, liking how they shared a bed and it wasn’t terrifying. It was a relief. Jaskier didn’t want much from him, and Geralt didn’t want much from Jaskier, and it was <em>nice</em>.</p>
<p>Spring break was gone too soon. They went back to the dorms. And, the very first night of classes, Geralt wrote a poem.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You’re the sun to my storm.<br/>You make bad days tolerable.<br/>Sometimes when I feel torn,<br/>I just have to look at you and I’m stable.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You dance when you walk.<br/>You fly when you sing.<br/>I love the way you talk.<br/>Please, never change a thing.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm rushing so much</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Jaskier</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>IT'S HERE</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier had never been so happy, in quite this manner, for so long.</p>
<p>His grades improved, even though he had a harder time focusing on his homework. His friends seemed to think he had a new girlfriend, and teased him mercilessly. He turned them away with laughs and teasing of his own.</p>
<p>His students, the children, began to react to his enthusiasm. He was approached by a school and asked if he would apply for a position there when he graduated, which was soon. He was so excited that he almost blurted a yes right there over the phone, but instead said cheerfully that he would definitely consider it, and thank you so much for reaching out to him. When he told Geralt that night, almost dizzy with excitement, Geralt smiled softly and kissed his cheek and told him it was only to be expected.</p>
<p>Of course, people began to notice that their time arguing in the student lounge was shorter, and their time working on homework was longer. But through the alchemy of gossip, it was decided that Jaskier was just sneaking around with his new girlfriend, and Geralt was going back to his loner days.</p>
<p>No one questioned it the first night they had sex. Geralt was gentle, nervous; Jaskier showed him what to do, and murmured encouragement. It was good. Not spectacular like in the movies, but it was good. Geralt growled and bit Jaskier’s neck, so close to his throat, and Jaskier’s mind flitted to that poem he’d written about baring his throat to Geralt—and then he came with a breathless laugh, and held on tight as Geralt thrust unsteadily to climax.</p>
<p>Jaskier snuck back to his room after a lazy hour of cuddling and kissing and reassuring Geralt that it had been nice, smiling dreamily and extremely lucky that no one saw him in the hall.</p>
<p>The poems flowed without end. Every two days, Jaskier found a new way to describe how much he loved Geralt. And even on bad days—when Geralt curled up in his bed with his gunshot protection earmuffs on, a weighted blanket, and his clothes inside out because of seams—when Jaskier was snappish and angry because Valdo Marx had fucked something up for him again—when it seemed like the world was horrible and everything was falling to shit—Jaskier could sit at his desk, look through the small, shaky poems Geralt had written back, and feel so safe.</p>
<p>Ciri got poems, too, neatly lettered and laminated, for her to put on her walls. Yennefer didn’t seem to know what to say when she first saw Ciri hug Jaskier and squeal, “I love you, Jaskier!”</p>
<p>It stayed secret. Kisses, poems, gentle words; it was all secret. But that was fine. Because Jaskier was going to graduate that year, and when he got a secure job, Geralt was going to ask Yennefer to leave, and they could move back into his house and raise Ciri together, and let everyone figure it out themselves.</p>
<p>This wasn’t Jaskier’s idea alone. He and Geralt talked about it often, quietly. The future had never looked more fun, more bright, more safe.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <em>One day<br/>We’ll go to the sea<br/>It’ll be<br/>Just you and me</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And I’ll say<br/>Here’s the thing,<br/>Dearheart, darling,<br/>I want you to wear my ring.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This one was rushed to bits as well. So. Hmm. Yeah. Comments please?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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